


One on One (I Wanna Play That Game Tonight)

by out_there



Category: Glee
Genre: Gen, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-08-08
Updated: 2012-08-08
Packaged: 2017-11-11 17:12:13
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,677
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/480907
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/out_there/pseuds/out_there
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>The weekly challenge causes some friendly competition over Hall & Oates; Blaine has the most amazing boyfriend but somehow uses a double-negative to call him mediocre; Kurt doesn’t fight fair, but Blaine’s not complaining at all.</p>
            </blockquote>





	One on One (I Wanna Play That Game Tonight)

**Author's Note:**

> Thanks to [](http://kmousie.dreamwidth.org/profile)[**kmousie**](http://kmousie.dreamwidth.org/) and [](http://lissysadmin.dreamwidth.org/profile)[**lissysadmin**](http://lissysadmin.dreamwidth.org/) for betaing. This is what I get for listening to the Best of Hall & Oates in the car: a story that could be subtitled “Blaine loves his showboat boyfriend”. Songs performed are linked at the end of the story.

Blaine only has himself to blame, and he knows it. He knows how competitive Kurt can get, and he knows better than to make anything an outright challenge. Even if Blaine secretly loves every time Kurt gets his teeth into a competition and does something extraordinary, even if it always makes Blaine want to point and grin and say, “He’s my boyfriend. How amazing is that?” Blaine should still know better.

Kurt’s complaining about this week’s assignment in glee club, and Blaine’s not sure how it happens, but it suddenly gets out of hand. They were sitting in the Lima Bean, sharing a post-rehearsal coffee, and Kurt was bemoaning the concept of weekly challenges. Blaine agrees it’s counterproductive when they have a competition performance in less than two months, and then Kurt says an entire week devoted to Hall & Oates was absolutely asinine.

One of the things Blaine never anticipated about having a boyfriend was having his vocabulary challenged. He’d never tell Kurt but sometimes when they talk at school, Blaine pulls out his phone on the way to class to be sure Kurt meant what Blaine thought he meant. It’s a humbling fact that dictionary.com is one of his most visited sites.

Asinine is one of those words, but Blaine can guess the meaning from context. Well, context and Kurt’s sharply raised eyebrow.

And when Kurt complains about ’80s soft rock not suiting his personal strengths, Blaine means to be soothing when he says that everybody will understand. He means that the club would understand that not every voice was suited to every style. He means it in a ‘you can only do what you can do’ way, an encouraging, supportive way, but that isn’t how Kurt takes it.

Kurt takes it as a personal affront. He says, “Even if my voice isn’t naturally suited to the song selection, I still have the talent and the ability to blow away everyone in that room.”

Blaine laughs a little, because of course Kurt would. It’s ridiculous to think otherwise. The times Blaine most wants to jump his boyfriend is when Kurt’s performing for a crowd. It’s the confidence and control that he has, the way Kurt can draw everyone in and either break their hearts or raise them up high. Kurt is astounding, a revelation.

But sitting there and laughing at his boyfriend is probably a silly thing to do. It doesn’t help matters.

“You don’t think I can?” Kurt asks haughtily.

Kurt really shines when he thinks he has something to prove. It’s endearing and kind of sexy when Kurt gets all determined and focused on something. “I’m not saying that,” Blaine says, hesitating. Blaine likes seeing Kurt pull out all the stops. There’s nothing on earth like Kurt forcing everyone to acknowledge how incredible he is.

“I could win that competition if I wanted to.”

“Are you sure?” Blaine asks. “Classic rock is kind of Finn’s thing and we’ve already done a Hall & Oates mash-up, and Quinn’s performance killed. I’m not saying you’re not good, but…”

“You’re not saying I’m not _good_?”

From the way his boyfriend stretches an extra syllable into the last word, Blaine knows he took that a step too far. “I didn’t mean—”

“I am incredible, Blaine Anderson,” Kurt says firmly.

“I know.” Blaine raises his hands in surrender, but Kurt’s not easily mollified. He’s many wonderful things, but Kurt has never been the type to give in without a fight.

“I don’t think you do.” Kurt raises his coffee cup to his lips. Finn once told Blaine that Kurt was at his scariest when he was coldly calm; Blaine sees his point. “Even though I do not want that stupid, pointless prize – at all – I’m winning it. Is that understood?”

Blaine swallows. “Okay.”

“You’d better bring your A game, Mr Anderson. Because I’m going to annihilate all of you.”

So, in hindsight, Blaine’s pretty sure this is his fault.

***

They’re supposed to have a scheduled make-out session the next day. It’s in Kurt and Blaine’s phones, although of course they’re not scheduled as “make-out sessions”. Blaine’s phone says, “Study session” and Kurt’s says, “Help Blaine with his French”. They’ve worked out that if they use their study periods conscientiously, they can spend afternoons in Kurt’s room with their textbooks open and the door halfway open. And make-out until they hear the squeak of the second-last step on Kurt’s staircase.

If Kurt’s dad ever gets around to fixing that, they’re going to find themselves very embarrassed, Blaine’s sure of it. But until that happens, he’s going to take every opportunity to kiss Kurt as much as he possibly can.

But Kurt cancels with a brief text about needing time to strategize his performance. There’s a smiling emoticon, but Blaine worries. He dithers about what to send back to Kurt, worries that maybe he’s done something unfixable, but Kurt calls him while he’s still typing.

“Hey,” Kurt says. “Did you get my message?”

“I was in the middle of replying,” Blaine says. He’s not going to admit that he’s spent the last ten minutes typing and deleting words, worried about it being too much or too little, and rethinking each sentence until he doesn’t know what he wants to say anymore. Talking is a lot easier. “Are you mad at me?”

“Am I mad because yesterday you used a double-negative to call me mediocre?” Kurt asks teasingly, fond in a way that makes Blaine’s chest unclench. “Because that’s not something a good boyfriend does.”

“I didn’t mean—”

“I know you didn’t,” Kurt says and as easy as that, Blaine knows he’s worrying about nothing. Whatever slight existed has already been forgiven. “But I meant what I said. I’m going to win. This is now a point of pride.”

“If that point means we can’t make out for the week, my pride will concede defeat now.”

Kurt laughs, a soft, happy trill in Blaine’s ear. “That’s good to know, but no, not all week. Just today so I can work out music choices. The regular schedule will resume tomorrow.”

So instead of making out with his boyfriend, Blaine spends an entire afternoon listening to Hall & Oates. He has to; he needs to work out which song to perform. In the end, he settles on “Say It Isn’t So” because it’s fun and upbeat, and he likes it. He likes something he can bop away to as he sings, where overenthusiasm can be forgiven. Plus, it’s in his natural range so it’s easy enough.

***

Blaine isn’t cut-throat competitive and he’s always happy when Kurt wins, but they pride themselves on being honest with each other. Blaine thinks if he can honestly do Hall & Oates better than Kurt, Kurt wouldn’t want him holding back. If he can’t match Kurt’s performance, Kurt would still want him to try his hardest and know that he’s won fairly. Kurt always encourages him to be his best, so Blaine puts some effort into preparing.

He enlists Mike and Brittany to perform with him, even though Mike’s also doing a song with Tina. They rehearse a few times and between the three of them, they work out a great routine where most of Blaine’s steps are actually quite simple. For the complicated, impressive moves, he steps back and they riff off each other. It looks fantastic, if Blaine says so himself.

Kurt’s called a ban on discussing their performances since they’re competitors for this week. Blaine keeps forgetting that he’s not supposed to talk about it. Whenever something cool happens in his life, the first person he tells is always Kurt. When a rehearsal goes well, when he’s looking forward to a performance, Kurt’s the person he wants to share that with. So he blurts out a few things without meaning to, but Kurt stops him by either feeding him cookies or making out with him. It’s kind of awesome either way.

***

Mr Schuester allots the performance times. On Thursday, Mercedes does a killer performance of “Some Things Are Better Left Unsaid”; Tina and Mike do “Adult Education” which somehow sounds less suggestive coming from Tina, but Blaine’s not sure why. Finn and Rachel sing “Kiss on My List” but they seem half-hearted about it.

When Blaine asks Rachel about it later, she explains that as captains, she and Finn try not to hog the spotlight during these in-house competitions. “It undermines the confidence of everyone else,” Rachel says brightly. “Everyone needs to believe they’re a winner, even when they lack my vocal range or Finn’s stage presence.”

Blaine’s favourite performance of the day is Rory and Artie singing “Rich Girl” while Sugar… well, mostly she just walks around them suggestively and occasionally lounges across Artie’s chair. She doesn’t even sing back-up vocals. When Mr Schuester questions her about not participating in a weekly competition, Sugar explains that she was totally participating.

“I was the rich girl,” Sugar says, and over Blaine’s left shoulder, he hears Kurt’s quiet snort of amusement. “That song was, like, all about me.”

***

Friday passes in a blur of anticipation. As much as Blaine thinks the season should be spent rehearsing competition performances, he loves these impromptu challenges. Getting to see everyone perform is fantastic. Getting to see Kurt perform is possibly his favourite thing about New Directions. Kurt shines in solos. He’s amazing on a stage of any sort, but in the choir room, performing to friends, Kurt lets go. He shows everything, and it’s breathtaking every time.

Blaine falls a little more in love each time he hears Kurt sing. It might be corny, but it feels true.

So he spends most of his classes daydreaming about what Kurt might be performing. Kurt hasn’t given him any clues, only promised that Blaine will enjoy it. Blaine honestly has no idea what it will be. As comfortable as Kurt is on the higher notes, he knows Kurt’s range actually falls to a reasonable tenor, and given the falsettos in a lot of their songs, Kurt would be able to sing most of the Hall & Oates oeuvre.

The time he doesn’t spend thinking about Kurt, Blaine recites his own lyrics and tries to remember that the choreography starts with left-right-ball-change-turn, not the left-left he keeps wanting to start with.

***

The one downside to Fridays is that he doesn’t have any classes near Kurt. They don’t even have lunch at the same time. He hasn’t had a chance to see Kurt all day.

The first time Blaine sees him is when Kurt steps into the choir room.

Kurt’s dressed for the occasion. The pants are high waisted and skim across his hips in a way that, well, Blaine has to look up before he thinks of anything too inappropriate. Kurt’s also wearing a plain crew-neck t-shirt, Blaine recognises it from the last time he managed to sneak a hand beneath Kurt’s layers, and a cobalt blue jacket with lightly padded shoulders. It gives Kurt an incredible silhouette and makes Kurt’s shoulders look broader than they really are.

“Still feeling confident?” Kurt chirps as he steps past Blaine to sit in the back row.

“Honestly?” Blaine asks, giving his boyfriend the biggest grin he can manage. “Yes.”

***

Blaine sits through Sam and Puck’s rendition of “Private Eyes” and claps at the end. Then Quinn does a lovely job of “Everything Your Heart Desires”, but he’s distracted until Kurt’s turn. He whispers, “Good luck,” as Kurt walks to the middle of the floor, and Kurt smiles.

The song starts slow and gentle. Blaine can’t quite place it. It seems familiar, but he’s listened to a lot of Hall & Oates in the last week. To Blaine, it sounds like ’80s make-out music, slow and smooth, with a saxophone gliding over the piano. He thinks it’s really cool that the jazz band kids brought a saxophone; it really works with these songs.

Kurt leans back on his elbows in front of the piano, but it’s a fairly low-key pose. It’s not the sort of attention-grabbing performance that Blaine’s honestly expecting. When the song starts, Kurt sings the first line, voice clear and stunning as ever, but it’s soft and kind. There’s something gentle about the song, tender, maybe.

Kurt smiles at Blaine and pushes himself forward, shirt pulled tight across his chest. He sings a line about not trying to score, which leaves Blaine blinking, and then he notices the expression on Kurt’s face.

Blaine knows that smirk very well. Intimately, even. It’s the expression Kurt wears when Blaine gets his wrists caught in his shirt because he forgot the existence of cuff buttons. He wears it when Blaine trips over his own feet or bruises his shins trying to walk without breaking mouth-to-mouth contact with Kurt. Sometimes, the possibility of Kurt’s mouth and Kurt’s hands and Kurt’s smooth, bare skin makes Blaine’s brain switch off and his coordination disappear completely. When that happens, Kurt always gives him this exact smirk. It’s a mixture of fond and sharp, amused and hungry.

When he’s been watching Kurt all day and unable to touch, or when he knows they’ve only got twenty minutes before someone’s parents come home, Blaine unleashes his inner clumsy idiot. Kurt knows that and laughs at him a little for it, but it doesn’t bother Blaine in the least. His boyfriend is so hot it turns him to mush. There are a lot of good things about that sentence: ‘boyfriend’ and ‘his’ and ‘hot’, so the rest is inconsequential.

But as well as he knows that smirk, it’s not an expression Kurt wears in public.

Or normally it’s not, but today Kurt’s staring into his eyes and smirking. Kurt’s taking his time stalking closer, rolling his hips with each step, hungry-eyed and incredibly confident. It’s not fighting fair but, oh boy, is it working for Blaine.

The chorus is higher and Kurt’s voice rises, clear as a bright summer’s day. He’s singing about being “one on one” and “playing games” and “taking it slow” and running his hand lightly up and down his own thigh. It might look innocuous, but Blaine knows there’s a mouth-shaped bruise right under Kurt’s thumb. Nobody else would know it’s there, but Blaine remembers creating it. Remembers Carole being called out for an afternoon shift and what started as a very reciprocal 69 ending with Kurt’s hands on his hips and the wet heat of Kurt’s mouth and Blaine whimpering, sucking desperate kisses to any skin he could reach. Blaine hadn’t realised how bad the mark was until lying together afterwards, and Kurt poking his chest and saying that was why Blaine’s teeth weren’t allowed anywhere near Kurt’s neck.

Blaine thinks he might spontaneously combust. He might actually burst into flames. Kurt. Kurt and his hand, fingers dragging back and forth over that spot. Kurt and his smirk, like he knows exactly what he’s doing to Blaine.

Hearing Kurt’s voice makes the air catch in Blaine’s chest, makes his heart pound a little harder. It always does. This time he’s also having trouble breathing around the low warmth of desire. He takes the opportunity to cross his legs and hopes his growing erection is less obvious than it feels. Blaine can feel the rising flush on his face and his eyes are glazing over in what Kurt calls his ‘distracted by nakedness’ expression.

Thankfully, Kurt stops singing the song directly to Blaine after that first chorus. Blaine’s not sure if that was a planned part of the performance or if Kurt’s showing mercy, but at least Kurt sings the rest of the song to Rachel, Tina and Mercedes. He throws in a slow hip roll for Santana, his voice dropping to sultry lows.

Blaine’s breathing deep and steady, trying to keep himself under control, but he’s also trying to memorise every second of this performance. It’s almost working, until Kurt’s eyes cut to his and he sings shamelessly about knowing that he’s coming tonight. Blaine’s flush returns full force.

Kurt’s sings, “I don’t want no-one else,” and “Just you and me,” and there are some soaring falsetto notes that Kurt conquers with ease. The song trails off into something as soft as Kurt’s lips, as gentle as the touch of Kurt’s fingertips to Blaine’s cheeks or along his wrists. It’s those deceptively simple things Kurt does when they’re in bed together that pulls Blaine apart every time.

When the song ends, Kurt stays and gives a formal little bow. There’s silence for a moment and then Santana starts clapping slowly. Blaine turns to glare, assuming she’s about to say something mean, so ridiculous when Kurt was incredible. But Santana’s beaming and the applause seems genuine.

“Ever want to be part of the gayest threesome in Ohio,” she says, grin bright and sharp, “call me and Britts. We’ll get on that.”

Now Blaine’s glaring for a completely different reason.

Brittany leans over and whispers something in Santana’s ear, twirling a finger in the curl at the bottom of Santana’s ponytail, and Santana rolls her eyes. “Fine. Gayest foursome in Ohio. Britt doesn’t want your boyfriend left out, especially when he comes in such a convenient concentrated-packet size.”

“I’m sure Kurt appreciates the feedback,” Mr Schuester says, and Blaine had kind of forgotten he was standing there. He’s amazed Kurt performed like that in front of a teacher. “But I don’t think it’s entirely appropriate.”

“Oh please,” Santana says, giving the room a very frank stare. “Raise your hand if you’d do Hummel right now.” Santana and Brittany are the first to raise their hands, but Tina, Mercedes and Sugar follow fast enough. Rachel raises her hand to shoulder height and then shoots a guilty look at Finn and drops it again.

Quinn shrugs and thankfully doesn’t raise her hand. Beside her, Puck’s arm is waving in the air.

“You don’t even like guys,” Blaine snaps, sounding more jealous and insecure than he’d like. It’s hard to be calm when your boyfriend puts on the kind of rampant sex show that has half the room wanting to get him into bed.

“Not on general principle, but that was something else.” Puck shrugs one meaty shoulder and adds, “I’d probably have to be pretty drunk but given those hips, it’d be a fun ride.”

Blaine thinks he hears Artie mutter something like “Preach,” but he’s too busy wishing Puck’s stupid handsome face gets covered in the world’s worst acne to care.

***

Luckily, Santana’s performance is scheduled next, so Blaine gets a few minutes’ reprieve. Santana goes all sultry-eyed and husky-voiced on “Maneater,” only breaking the persona once to give Brittany a cheery little finger wave.

Blaine sits there and tries to think unsexy thoughts. He thinks about his math assignment due the week after next, but if he gets an early start he can spare time on Saturday to go vintage shopping with Kurt. Kurt’s been wanting to go vintage shopping since he saw the seventies revival spread in last month’s Vogue, and he’s great fun to shop with. He gets so excited and passionate about clothing that it feels like an adventure, like every musty second-hand rack is the start of a treasure hunt. And if Blaine finds something Kurt particularly likes, he’ll be rewarded with Kurt’s smile and sometimes invited into the dressing room for a quick, heated kiss…

Blaine tries to think about something else. He thinks about his Spanish homework and how much he doesn’t want to do it, even though he will. He thinks about the Buckeyes’ chances this season and who they’re playing next because it’s a much safer topic than Kurt’s hips or Kurt’s smile. Or Kurt’s fingers drawing down the outside seam of his pants. Or how the neckline of his t-shirt skims across Kurt’s collarbone and how much Blaine loves kissing that spot, that V between the bones, with his hands on Kurt’s biceps…

It’s not working. So instead Blaine focuses on how embarrassed he’s going to be if he has to perform in front of the entire glee club with a hard-on. He will be mortified. There will be jokes at his expense for weeks to come. And while he could probably live with the teasing, Kurt will be annoyed to be the butt of everyone’s jokes. So unsexy thoughts. Like cold showers and his aunt’s rock-heavy tea-cakes. And talking last night to Cooper about his latest audition piece and his delusional insistence that he was so good, they won’t call back anyone else.

Then there’s applause all around him. He blinks and joins in guiltily. Her performance was probably great, but Blaine didn’t hear a note. He should have been paying attention and he would have, but his boyfriend’s scorchingly hot. It’s hard to remember his manners under these circumstances.

***

It’s a little easier to focus when Blaine’s standing in the middle of the choir room, giving his best show smile. With the music playing, stepping in time with Mike and Brittany as they sing back-up is familiar enough that he doesn’t need to be thinking clearly to do okay. As he sings the first line, Blaine remembers that he knows these words, he knows this song. Things click into place.

Technically, it’s not the world’s best performance. Blaine can hear the notes where his breathing’s out and the sound isn’t as strong as it should be. There are a few moments when his voice goes a bit rough, dragging over the low notes. But he still has fun.

Blaine throws himself into the performance, bouncing on the balls of his feet. His hand gestures are a little bit more extravagant than they’d rehearsed and he’s a second late for a spin with Brittany, but he doesn’t think anyone will notice. He hasn’t had a lot of time to practice this. A week is hardly long enough to get it to a professional standard.

He bounces around a little and forgets a bit of his own choreography. He stays clear of Mike and Brittany, who are doing these fantastic fast-paced little kicks that look like they belong in Pretty In Pink or Footloose, and dances around the bleachers, stepping up and down as he sings. Then he remembers he was supposed to do that during the musical bridge, not while he sings the second verse.

There’s no way to change it now, so Blaine keeps going, tugging Sugar to her feet as he sings. Tina doesn’t need any encouragement, so he takes her hand and Sugar’s, then pulls them near the piano to dance. Then he’s pulling up Sam and Rachel, Rory and Finn, and everybody’s up and bopping along.

He beams at Kurt and adds in an extra shimmy on the “move so well” line because, well, Kurt does. And it’s so worth it for the way Kurt smiles back at him.

It’s a pity that Mike and Brittany had some really cool spins choreographed into this number, but it gets interrupted by Tina and Santana. Blaine completely understands why dancing with your girlfriend trumps practiced steps, and it’s kind of his own fault. Blaine knows it was supposed to be a prepared performance given to an audience, but it’s so much more fun to sing with a crowd. It’s not smoothly practiced. It’s a chaotic melee, but everyone’s happy and having fun. They’re all bouncing around the choir room, grinning and singing at the tops of their lungs because who can resist this song? It’s awesome!

And maybe Blaine’s favourite part about it is Kurt. Kurt who sits back in his chair, long legs crossed elegantly, brushing fingertips past the bold swoop of his hair. He stays sitting there, pretending he’s too good for all of this, quietly laughing at their antics. When Blaine hears that unmistakable voice glide into the mix of voices, he grins so hard his cheeks hurt.

***

“That was very energetic,” Mr Schuester says, once everyone’s sat down. They’re still catching their breath, and grinning at each other. “But I think we have a clear winner.”

***

Kurt stays sitting in the choir room after everyone’s left, so Blaine fiddles with his bag, rearranging his books as if he’s looking for something. He’s just giving himself an excuse to catch Kurt alone. Well, it’s meant to be an excuse, but he lifts up his history book from the wrong end. He always forgets that workbook for history, and he keeps meaning to transfer all his loose notes into his workbook, so pages fall everywhere. He has to crawl under the piano to get some of them, and emerges to find Kurt tapping a steel-toed boot.

“What do I keep telling you about those pages?” Kurt asks pointedly.

“To staple them into my workbook if I’m going to keep procrastinating.” Blaine shrugs. He will write them in eventually. When he manages to schedule study time with Kurt that’s actually used to study, he’ll rewrite it.

“So will you staple them?”

“I’ll write them in,” Blaine promises and gets a disbelieving eye-roll in return. “You were incredible, you know.”

“I know,” Kurt says, charmingly over-confident, “but it’s nice to hear it occasionally.”

“You’re always incredible,” Blaine says because he is. His boyfriend is amazing. “Are you upset you didn’t win?”

Kurt shakes his head. “Why would I actually want a genuine replica Miami Vice jacket? Those silhouettes aren’t cool even in the retro, intentionally uncool way.”

“Not fashion’s best moment,” Blaine agrees.

“Besides,” Kurt says with a carefree shrug, “Mercedes was extraordinary, and her dad is a huge Miami Vice fan. He’ll love that.”

“Even though it’s a genuine replica?” Blaine asks. It sounds like a ‘real fake’ to him. He doesn’t see the appeal.

“Personally, I much prefer the genuine article.” Kurt looks around the empty room and closed doors, and then leans in to peck Blaine on the cheek. Kisses at school are incredibly rare, and Blaine’s not sure he deserves one. He’s not silly enough to question it though.

Blaine finishes packing his bag and checks his pocket for his keys. “I have my phone in my pocket,” he says in dismay.

“And that’s a bad thing?”

“I had my phone in my pocket. The whole time. I could have been recording that performance.”

Kurt’s eyebrows rise closer to his stylish hairline. “So you could watch for show notes afterwards?”

Blaine rolls his eyes. Admittedly, the Warblers used to do that, but it was practical for rehearsals and the only way to conclusively prove that Blaine tends to step out of beat when he gets too excited. “No, I meant your performance. God, I could have had that recorded.”

“I’m going to take that as a compliment,” Kurt says, far too amused, “that I’m amazing, rather than my boyfriend is a pervy voyeur.”

“I think both are true.” There’s no point denying it. His boyfriend is unbelievably hot and if Blaine had a recording of it, he’d be hiding it amongst the other porn on his laptop. And probably watching it for the same reasons. Just the memory of Kurt’s hips moving, with those fingers brushing up and down his thigh, will fuel Blaine’s fantasies for a while.

Kurt’s snapping fingers in front of his face, and Blaine realises he zoned out there.

“In that case,” Kurt says, once Blaine’s focusing again and shrugging a silent apology, “how about we go back to my place and indulge in a private performance instead? I happen to know a certain quarterback is going over to the Berrys’ house this afternoon.”

“Can I record it?”

Kurt gives him this look, this slow steady look that implies Blaine’s missing something really important. Like his IQ. “You can record it or there can be nakedness involved. One or the other. The two are mutually exclusive.”

“Oh,” Blaine says and drops his phone back into his pocket. “That’s not a choice at all.”

“I thought you’d see it my way,” Kurt says, tucking a hand into Blaine’s elbow and leading him out to the parking lot. Blaine really does have the best boyfriend ever.  


**Author's Note:**

> Songs performed by the boys - [One on One](http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=qsxa8d9Tp9s) which does sound like 80s make-out music, [Say It Isn't So](http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=8As91LDf8y8) because Blaine can't resist a boppy, upbeat break-up song.


End file.
